


The Warrior and the Healer

by Sajo



Series: Etcetera [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Asexual Character, Developing Relationship, Fairy Tale Style, Fantasy, Friendship, M/M, Physical Disability, Pining, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3988672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sajo/pseuds/Sajo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neiru meets Iskha in the worst of circumstances, but—perhaps by the will of the gods—they manage to forge a bond that only grows stronger with the passing years and the many distances between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warrior and the Healer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING** for some depictions of gore/amputation. (Part 1.1 should be the only chapter with this sort of content.)

In a time when imperial expansion swept the land, a young man from the craggy eastern mountains was drafted into the service of the emperor. He was one of many tributes required by the provisions of the generations-old treaty between the two territories.

The youngest child of the reigning clan’s matriarch and the fiercest of mountain warriors, fresh-faced Neiru accepted his new role as lowly foot soldier without complaint, for he was, more than anything, eager to travel the lands below and beyond the roiling cover of chill clouds. Though he loved his family and the clanspeople who helped raise him, there was nothing more for him in the landlocked mountains. He wanted to see for himself the endless grasslands, the warm forests, the sparkling seas—all which he had only imagined through legends and secondhand accounts. And so he left his home of twenty years, prepared for the possibility that he would never return.

Although surrounded by strangers and knowing little of the language of the empire, Neiru was quick to adjust, for his mind was sharp and his heart resolute in his new path. He bore the long marches and meager supplies with good cheer and boundless spirit, his childlike wonder never dampened even as he fought desperately and bled valiantly for the empire. In time, his pleasant disposition and monstrous prowess in battle became known throughout the army, and though he was merely a young clansman from a tributary region, his merits raised him up the ranks as he served the empire for the next three years.

At the end of his third year of service, under the blinding light of the noon sun just days before the summer solstice, the last remaining armies of a most rebellious section of the land were finally subdued. It was one of the worst battles in this long conquest, the casualties on both sides too many.

As one of the few soldiers fortunate enough to come out of the battle with only flesh wounds, Neiru was put to search the blood-soaked meadow for survivors and potential prisoners. It wasn’t long into the afternoon. Flies and scavenging birds swarmed around the war-ravaged corpses, the noise of their frenzied flight a bleak counterpoint to the gentle rustle of meadow grass.

The stench of death and decay assaulted the senses, but Neiru was a dutiful officer and his mare a placid veteran beast. She plodded her way steadily through the clusters of the dead, hauling a cart behind her, while Neiru kept his eyes and ears alert.

A sudden movement some distance away, in the middle of the carnage, caught his attention. He hefted his sword as he guided his horse towards the survivor.

It was a man in light leather armor, his shoulders heaving with the force of his rattling breaths as he struggled to lift himself from the gutted mess of a body underneath him. He was clutching at his left leg—or what was left of it. A battle-ax was wedged into the limb, just below the knee, and embedded in the ground. Blood covered the flattened grass around him, but the flow seemed to have eased.

The man’s trembling fingers were pressing seemingly deliberate patterns into the skin just above the ruined flesh. Neiru frowned at that, but as he let go of his horse’s reins to step closer, he spotted the insignia worn by the combat healers of this now-conquered region: two concentric circles bisected vertically, four additional tapered points radiating out from the inner circle…and eight dots surrounding the outer ring. 

Surprise made him hesitate. He'd heard what those dots signified. What was someone so valuable doing here? It was one thing to have combat healers and the goddess-touched—mages, the empire called them—in the army, but this was both mage and healer, an even rarer brand of goddess-touched. The man was a resource that did not belong in the middle of a bloody battlefield.

Then Neiru was struck again, this time by the flash of golden eyes meeting his own.

Stark lines of agony and exhaustion were visible through the grime and dried blood on the healer’s face, but otherwise he looked remarkably unaffected by the state of his leg. He defiantly held Neiru’s gaze, even as his body trembled from the shock of his injury and the strain of his efforts to heal himself.

Neiru sheathed his sword—magic likely wasn’t a threat, not now when so much of the mage-healer’s reserves were spent—and crouched down for a closer inspection. The shin-guard, calf muscles, and bones were sliced through, the flesh red and raw and the bleeding practically stopped through whatever magical means. But a white sliver of the larger bone and a flap of skin still connected the parts.

There was no record of any healer who could reattach a limb, least of all through self-surgery, and the nearly separated lower leg was already showing signs of death. Neiru flicked his dismayed gaze up; he could see that the healer knew this.

Even without a plea for help, the message was clear in that spirited golden gaze. Neiru obliged, unhesitating.

He gingerly pulled the ax out of the ground for a clear aim, gritting his own teeth in aching sympathy as the healer clenched his jaw against a low groan. And with a quick downward swing of the sword, the limb was fully amputated.

The shock, the pain, and the energy drain finally overpowered the healer. He slumped back, unconscious, and Neiru swiftly wrapped a makeshift bandage around the raw stump. The blood loss had been mitigated; it was infection that was potentially fatal. The army’s regular healers would have the necessary supplies to prevent that.

Neiru easily lifted the healer and carefully positioned him on the cart, next to the two other wounded imperial soldiers that his search had yielded, and then turned his horse around to head back to the camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really shouldn't start something when I haven't finished any of my other stories...


End file.
